The Last Warrior

This post won the Silver Batom in the Blog-a-Ton 36. Results can be found here.

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 36; the thirty-sixth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "and then there were none"

"Brothers, the hour of reckoning is upon us. The enemy approaches from above. We will not survive this attack, but we will make sure they remember us. We will leave our mark on their bodies and minds. We will make them regret the day they decided to face us in battle. May the Gods be with us."

Their lives had changed the day the carnivorous aliens had invaded their world. Entire settlements were being exterminated, harvested for food and fuel by a ruthless enemy. Total annihilation loomed ominously on the horizon. Theirs was the last stand, the final battle.

Lt. Lars Ays, the leader of Platoon Charlie (High Impact Primary) looked at his men. Every single one of them was a farmer's son. They had grown up living and working in the soil of their country, before they were plucked out of their fields and sent to the recruitment office. The sickly ones were quickly shunted out, the healthy ones were made battle-ready.

Lt. Ays looked at his boys. Yes, they were merely boys, forced to act like men. They had lost their youthful roundness in the training camp, sliced and cut to size. Their crisp uniforms clashed horribly with their panic-stricken faces.

They were not all the same size. Some were big, and took up their positions at the head of the amphibious landing boat they were in. The smaller ones, the crumbs as they were teasingly called, were placed at the end. They would last longer if shielded by their larger brothers.

Russet was the tiniest crumb in the platoon. He was just as prepared to die as the others, but he knew he wouldn't get a chance to show his mettle before he saw the rest of his platoon chewed up before his eyes. He dreaded that sight more than he dreaded death itself. He gulped drily, there wasn't enough air in the closed, dark space to breathe freely.

The tang of oil and salt pervaded the air and every nook and crevice of the boat. The enemy would attack from above. They would start by tearing the top off, to gain better access to the soldiers within. Then they would pick them out, one by one to begin with, and indiscriminate batches then on, using a claw-like device to scoop them out of the narrow confines of the boat.

Platoon C had very little defence against an aerial attack while they were so far from land. They were holed up inside the boat in a way that made it impossible for them to escape. All they could do was hope that the enemy would oblige with an over-enthusiastic initial attack and end up ripping a large enough chunk out of the boat for some of them to fall out before they were killed.

The entire boat rocked and shuddered. It was time.

The first strike was swift and effective. The enemy was good. The boat was now neatly open in a long slit at the top, like the parting of lips in a grotesque laugh. Before they had time to think, two of their comrades had risen into the air, in the clutches of the enemy's claw. The attack was brutally devastating.

One by one, the soldiers of Platoon C were slain. Russet cowered in the innermost corner, farthest from the opening, watching as his brothers crumbled before him. They put up a brave fight, cutting with sharp edges, clinging tenaciously to the recesses and abscesses of their death trap, blinding the enemy with chemicals adhering to the claw.

Organs lay all around Russet, sticking to the inside walls. He could do nothing but grimly await his own finish. He saw Lt. Ays's helmet lying on a sticky heap. Russet put it on. He would fight just as hard as any of the others, even though he was the tiniest of the lot.

The enemy peered into the boat from afar to check for survivors. The insides of the boat were stained and besmirched by war. All were dead. All but one. Russet stood bravely in plain sight, ready to defend his honour and the sacrifice of his comrades. He saw the claw descending slowly and ponderously, as though he was of no consequence to the enemy.

Russet fought with all that he had. He ducked and darted and led them on a merry chase even in the confines of the narrow boat. The claw was soon coated in muck and oil, making it slippery and unwieldy. Russet jabbed at it as he sprung from side to side. He made a spectacular leap across the claw, but was ensnared at last. His back broke.

He smiled grimly. He'd fought hard. The enemy would remember him. His last vision before dying was of the boat crumpling in on itself and the insignia "L.AYS".

The last warrior fell. And then there were none.

***

The enemy was startled by a new attack. "Ramesh, how many times have I told you, no more chips. Your cholesterol levels are high as it is. These chips are probably sticking to your arteries right now. They will be the death of you someday."

Ramesh sighed and resumed his whimsical daydream. Platoon C(HIP) under the leadership of Lieutenant L.Ays would have their revenge after all. He looked at his oily hand and smiled at what he saw. "Russet", he smirked, and popped the last chip in his mouth.

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The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: Panchali Sengupta, Participation Count: 01

Hey Mixi, truly loved your story... It has also inspired me to do some experiments... :) This was an amazing read, unfortunately I read about the twist in the comments before reading the story, It was very well narrated, contented and gripping... Really enjoyed reading it... :)

In response to your comment on my post: I believe that I still didn't find the actual definition of maturity. So I'm on my way to create a new one for myself, till then, I'm an adolescence... :)

wow.. This could actually be a brilliant AD concept.. someone ask the media guys to read this... loved it.. It made me remember the scenes from Pirates of the caribbean.. our hero Johnny Depp vs the Sea monster ! Great !

Insane.. I was thinking of this as another SciFi tragedy.. but then before I read the ending.. I read L. Ays.. Sounded fishy.. and then I was laughing like crazy when I read the end. Great transition turning a grim looking situation to something really humorous.. Congrats on a Blog-a-Ton Silver Batom